Initial Reflection
by Phoebonica
Summary: Jacques thinks about what VFD really stands for. Implied character death. Well, we all know what happened to Jacques, don't we?


**Disclaimer:** I don't own these books. We all know that, right?

**Initial Reflection**

"I'm not a villain!" Jacques said frantically. "I work for the volunteer –"

from _The Vile Village_

Volunteer Fire Department.

It sounds so simple. So ordinary. So benign. I don't think I've ever said the words out loud before.

I don't remember how I found out what it stood for, who, if anyone, told me what those three letters actually meant. Maybe I just figured it out on my own. At any rate no one ever talked about it, it was always just VFD, the initials like a mask hiding a world of mystery and intrigue. Giving away nothing. If you didn't know what they stood for they could stand for anything – VFD is secret, it's important, it's dangerous, it's noble, it's something you have always been part of, something you gave your whole life to, it's the last bastion of goodness and decency in the world and you must fight with all your strength to protect it or else all hope will be lost.

_But what does it _mean? Quigley asked me that. And I told him what my tutors told me – it's a secret. I can't just tell you. Maybe later, maybe when it's safer, maybe when things have calmed down, when I know we're not being listened to. When you've finished your training, when I know I can trust you. Because this is too important to be given away.

And I meant it. I really did.

I wonder how long it'll be before he realises I'm not coming back. I wonder what he'll do, if he'll work out where to go, who to call. I wonder if…

I'm really _not_ coming back, am I? Going back. Leaving here. I'm not going anywhere.

Why didn't I _see_ it? All these months I've been searching for them and suddenly a solution drops into my lap and I go racing off after it. Some detective. I walked right into Olaf's hands. They're here, though. I found them, well done Jacques, give that man a commendation. Did they recognise me? I thought maybe Violet did, but it might be just wishful thinking. She wasn't much older than four last time I saw her. Not that it makes a lot of difference. Even if they knew, they couldn't do anything. They're probably working on some plan right now to stop the execution – if they take after their parents at all, they will be – but somehow I don't think that's going to help. I could be wrong. Maybe I shouldn't give up hope like this, but who am I kidding? There isn't going to be an execution. Olaf's not stupid; he knows the rules as well as I do. I think I'm going to be waiving my right to a final speech. Probably I'll have a sudden attack of conscience and hang myself in my cell. There's nothing in here to actually hang myself _from_, but I doubt that's going to be a problem. Not for an ingenious criminal mastermind like me.

I'm not going to start crying. Not now. I still have some dignity left. I might have lost my home, my friends… my family…

I couldn't even tell them my _name_! That's the worst part, not the betrayal, not the failure. I couldn't even tell them my own full name. Jacques Snicket. Oh, Lemony. I'm so sorry. I tried so hard to prove you were innocent. Please, when you hear what happened here – _if_ you hear what happened – please, don't think it meant I was ashamed of you. I was always proud to be your brother. I should have just said it, told them your name, my name, told them the truth. I should have told them everything.

I nearly did. I got the first word out, but I couldn't finish. Cut off by a man in a stupid hat and a lifetime of training. That's why I can't be too mad at Hector, even now, even though he must have recognised what was going on. Part of me wants to damn him for a coward, but the rest of me, the volunteer part, knows he didn't have a choice. The code of silence is stronger than it looks, it works its way into everything you do until you can't even say the three words that ought to matter most. Even if it costs you your life.

Volunteer Fire Department. Was it ever that simple? Maybe that's really what we were once, long ago before all the secrecy and confusion and masks and mirrors. Maybe that's where it all went wrong, when we started thinking we were too important for our own good, started thinking we were all that was true and noble in the world, an oasis of purity in a burning desert of confusion, and no one else could ever hope to douse the flames. When we forgot what we really stood for.

I just wish we could…

What was that noise?

Oh god, Olaf's coming. I didn't think it would be this soon. I could try to block the door, but how long would that give me? No good, it opens outwards – of course it does, prison cells aren't meant to keep people _out_.

This is it, then. The notorious Count Omar is about to end his villainous career. No – no, it can't end like that, can it? Somebody has to work out what really happened, somebody has to know the truth. Lemony, Kit, Quigley, _anybody_, don't listen to what ends up in the papers. Look at the evidence – Violet, Klaus, remember what I told you. _Tried_ to tell you.

My name is Jacques Snicket. I work for the Volunteer Fire Department.

Somebody – please – remember that.


End file.
